Grandma arrives atsix on the dot, because she’s never been late to anything in her seventy-five years.
She’s wearing her best cardigan—the blue one she saves for special occasions—and carrying a pie that smells like cinnamon and apples. Her white hair is pinned up in its usual messy bun, and her dark eyes are sharp as ever as she takes in the farmhouse.
“Well.” She hands me the pie and steps inside, looking around. “Still impressed every time I come here. Those boys did good work on this place.”
“I’ll let Nate know you said so. Again.”
“He can stand to hear it twice.” She pats my cheek, the same way she’s been doing since I was five years old. “You look good, sweetheart. Rested. Happy.”
“I am.”
“Good.” She squeezes my hand briefly. “Now. Where’s Theodore? He promised me his grandmother’s chicken recipe, and I intend to hold him to it.”
As if summoned, Theo appears in the kitchen doorway. “Mrs. Donovan. Welcome.”
“Theodore.” Grandma sniffs the air approvingly. “Is that rosemary I smell?”
“My grandmother’s recipe. I adjusted the seasoning slightly—she always went heavy on the salt.”
“Smart man.” Grandma shoots me a look. “I like him.”
“You’ve told me. Several times.”
“It bears repeating.”
Lucas and Nate appear a moment later. Lucas is freshly showered, still in his work clothes but with his tie loosened. Nateis wearing an actual button-down shirt, which makes me smile—he’s been making an effort every time Grandma visits.
“Mrs. Donovan,” Lucas says. “Good to see you.”
“Dr. Price. How’s the clinic?”
“Busy. Cold season’s starting.”
“Hmm. I’ll need my flu shot next week. Don’t let me forget.”
“Already on the schedule.”
Grandma turns to Nate. “And you. Still shoveling my driveway?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good man.” She studies him for a moment, then nods approvingly. Nate’s ears go red, but through the bond I feel his quiet pleasure at the acknowledgment.
“Now,” Grandma says, settling into a chair at the kitchen table like she owns the place. “Someone pour me a drink. I want to hear all the news.”
Dinner is...perfect.
There’s no other word for it. Theo’s chicken is incredible—herb-crusted and juicy, with roasted vegetables and a sauce that makes me want to lick the plate. Lucas keeps refilling everyone’s glasses. Nate stays quiet but attentive, making sure Grandma has everything she needs before she even asks.
And Grandma—Grandma is in her element. She asks Lucas about his practice, grills Theo about his plans for expanding the nursery, and somehow gets Nate to admit he’s been thinking about getting a dog.
“I knew it.” I point my fork at him. “I’ve seen you looking at those shelter websites.”
“It’s not—I was just browsing.” His ears go pink. “The farmhouse has space. And a yard.”
“Border collie mixes,” Lucas adds helpfully. “He’s very particular about the breed.”
“Traitor.”
